


Some Sweet Company

by plinys



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Femslash February, Femslash February Trope Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy cannot sing for the life of her, but that doesn't mean she can't check out the young woman handing out flyers for the school's all girls a cappella group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Sweet Company

**Author's Note:**

> 90% of this was written at 4am while working an all night shift with Anna Kendrick's Cups on repeat. 
> 
> It fills the "college au" square on my bingo card, so there's that.
> 
> (Not beta'd because it's pretty much crack and I almost didn't even post it, but for the sake of the /last/ scene of this fic, I did.)

_Be a pal, and bring me pants_.

That was the text message that she would blame this whole ordeal on.

When Peggy wrote her inevitable tell all on her terrible experiences with the American education system there would be an entire section of the book dedicated to the idiot that she had made the mistake of befriending on her first day at the university. And in that chapter would be nothing more than a series of texts which made her regret ever having left the comforts of London.

She had sworn mere hours before that there was absolutely no way she would be going down to the new student fair, because she was not a new student or involved in any of the on campus clubs (nor did she have any intention of becoming involved in any of them). Peggy had vowed to spend her first day back to school before classes started unpacking or doing something vaguely productive. None of that was supposed to involve the mess down on the quad made up of wide eyed freshmen and overly eager upperclassmen armed with flyers.  

Yet here she was, stomping through the quad with a pair of pants stuffed into her oversized purse wishing she wasn’t such a decent person.

“No thank you,” Peggy says, her hand coming up to push a flier away that a quick look lets her know is for the school’s Quidditch team – apparently that’s a thing.

Her polite refusal doesn’t seem to do the trick, because the second she speaks up the flyerer gets this strange notion into their head that she can be convinced to join them. Apparently _no_ is a difficult word for people to understand in this day and age.

Before Peggy can open her mouth once more to tell the guy once again that _no_ she is not interested, somebody else beats her to the punch, “hey, buddy, she said she wasn’t interested.”

“Thank you, but really I’ve got this under control,” Peggy says, turning away from the over eager Harry Potter fans, in order to focus on the woman who had come up to her defense.

“I just wanted to save you from his Brit Boner. He’s gone after every exchange student to come through here.”

“I’m not an exchange student,” Peggy says, before clarifying, “I mean, yes I’m from there, but I’ve been here the last two years, I’m not new.”

She feels that that last bit was necessary to add once she had gotten a better look at the other woman and noticed that her shirt said _Griffith Girls,_ the name of the university’s a cappella group. (A fact she only knew because a certain friend of hers had slept with half of the girls on the team.)

“You don’t have to be new to explore your options,” and there’s something about the way she says it, as well as the over eager look on her face, that makes Peggy wonder if the other woman is talking about more than just the a cappella group she’s handing out flyers for.

“I’m sorry, as I said I’m really not interested in joining any new clubs, and honestly, I can’t sing.”

“With legs like yours, it won’t matter,” the girl says quickly and unashamedly.

“Is that right?”

“What I meant was-“

But rather than getting to hear what the other woman apparently meant, they were interrupted by a familiar male voice calling out, “Peggy! Stop flirting and give me my pants already!”

She’s certain her face turns just the hint of red at his words, and she’s already half plotting various ways to murder Howard in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Peggy tells the woman in front of her, “I really have to go and do this.”

“Right, pants?”

“Yes, pants,” she agrees, with a hint of a laugh.

With that, she turns to head in the direction of the Hiliel booth where her friend is standing in nothing but his boxers.

“Do I even want to know,” she asks once she gets there.

“No, probably not.”

\---

“Hey, English.”

She’s not sure why she looks up at those words, but there’s something in the tone that is familiar, and when she does she instantly knows why. Peggy had been studying in this café for hours, and yet somehow she had managed to miss the fact that one of the servers had a familiar face.

“You were at the new student fair,” Peggy says when she places the face, and is rewarded with a wide smile.

“You remember me.”

“Has anybody every told you that you’re rather hard to forget?”

“Never as a compliment,” she replies.

“Well, they ought to do that more often then,” Peggy insists.

“Yeah, okay.”

Desperate to keep the other woman’s attention, for some unknown reason, Peggy finds herself asking the most mundane of things to keep her around, “you work here?”

“Obviously, English, I’m not just wearing this uniform for fun,” she replies, gesturing to the truly awful mint green apron, “plus music doesn’t exactly pay the bills.”

“No, I don’t imagine it would,” Peggy agrees, before asking, “English?”

There’s just the hint of color at the top of the other woman’s cheeks, but she plays it off with a laugh, “I didn’t know you’re name so-“

“Peggy.”

“Peggy,” she repeats, before adding, “I’m Angie.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Angie.”

“Same to you.”

“I’m sorry, I should probably let you get back to your work and all, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Trying to get rid of me,” Angie teases.

“Not at all,” Peggy insists, “it’s just you have work, and I have this awful book. Also I am still slightly worried that you’re going to try and recruit me into your evil legion of musicians.”

“We’re not evil,” Angie objects, “well, except for this one girl, Dottie, the jury’s still out on her, but the rest of us and one hundred percent angelic.”

“Yes, that sounds completely believable.”

“Just wait, English, I’ll convert you to the dark side soon enough.”

Peggy can’t help the smile that finds its way onto her lips at those words, and that smile only grows when a minute second later the music in the café shifts from instrumental tunes to vaguely recognizable pop songs and she catches sight of Angie singing along.

\---

“I knew you could sing.”

“Bloody hell, have you been here the whole time?”

“Maybe, whatever, that’s not important, English,” the very naked woman in front of her says, “what’s important is that you can _sing._ ”

“No, actually I can’t. It’s just the shower, amplifying everything and giving good acoustics. Normally I sound much more like a dying whale, I assure you.”

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

“Well you should, it’s the truth.”

“Keep telling yourself,” she says, meeting Peggy’s eyes with a mischievousness that is slightly endearing before he gaze flickers downwards approvingly and Peggy’s suddenly reminding that she’s very much _in the shower._

“Is there any chance we could have this discussion some other time, when we’re less naked.”

“I’m fine right now.”

“That you are,” Peggy says, before she can think through her own words, “but perhaps I might be a bit more interested in this singing nonsense if we were having this conversation at the cafe wearing significantly more clothing?”

“I don’t know how you English folk do it,” Angie teases, “but we American’s are perfectly content to drink our coffee in the nude.”

“Yes, well, I prefer tea.”


End file.
